


A Little Spoiling Now and Then

by wyntera



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Multi, Yoni massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 04:50:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19349830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntera/pseuds/wyntera
Summary: Lepetitselkie requested Genji and Zenyatta taking good care of an overworked Angela, and I'd say she's been thoroughly taken care of. Wink wonk.





	A Little Spoiling Now and Then

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lepetitselkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lepetitselkie/gifts).



For a brief moment, Angela considers the merits of curling up and falling asleep right in front of her apartment door. It seems like less effort than actually unlocking it to get inside. But she would rather not have her colleagues find her sprawled unconscious in the hallway, and her back already hurts enough without sleeping on metal floor panels, so she summons the strength to work the access codes and step inside.

She's expecting the stale scent of filtered air that permeates the Watchpoint. Maybe the dull droning of one of Genji's movies on the holoscreen. Instead, she walks into a wall of heavenly aroma that stops her in her tracks. Did she walk into the wrong apartment by mistake? No, that's her jacket hanging by the door next to Zenyatta's umbrella, the one with the raining cats and dogs chibis that he finds so adorable. What's surprising is that the umbrella is actually hanging on its own hook, in place, where it's supposed to be.

Angela slips off her shoes and proceeds with caution into the rest of the apartment, where things just get weirder. The pile of paperwork she left on the table is in a neat stack. There are no empty cups or dirty dishes, no stray shuriken, no spare nuts or bolts or the random screwdriver. Egg’s chew toys are gathered in a woven basket instead of strewn about the floor. She can actually see  _ vacuum lines _ in the thick rug.

Clearly she’s having an exhaustion-induced hallucination. “Hello?”

“In here.”

Following Genji’s voice, she treads into the kitchen only to pause on the threshold. The air is warmer here and filled with the scent of comfort food. Zenyatta is bent over a pan, his metal glinting gold under the stove light as he works a spatula. Across the room, Genji is just finishing up folding a towel and placing it on a stack in the laundry basket. They both look up at her entrance, the latter smiling with his mask off.

“Welcome home,” Zenyatta greets.

“We were starting to worry you had lost your way,” Genji adds.

Angela blinks at him. “You did laundry.”

“Very observant of you, Doctor Ziegler,” Genji replies, full of good humor. It is no secret that between the three of them, Genji is least likely to bother with linens and the chore of cleaning them. He sets the laundry basket aside and moves to embrace her, pressing a sweet kiss to her cheek while deftly removing her work bag from her shoulder.

“You never do laundry,” she insists.

Genji kisses her properly, indulgent, and smiles just as sweetly. “I do today.”

“Genji, if you would please set the table?” Zenyatta asks. His request and warmth draws Angela’s attention and she wanders over, tired but curious. Butter sizzles in the pan as grilled cheese sandwiches turn golden-brown and crispy. “Agent Augustin mentioned that today was more trying than usual for you.”

Overwatch’s recent humanitarian efforts have led to more and more demands for her unique skills as a surgeon. They even occasionally open up the Watchpoint to patients, for exceptional cases or those caught in the fallout of terrorist activities. For the past two days her infirmary has been packed with victims of Talon activity.

“Today was a very difficult day,” Angela admits, pushing the sadness aside and resting her head against the hard curve of Zenyatta’s shoulder. “You made grilled cheese.”

“With cheddar, gouda, and gruyere, just like you showed us.” He flips the sandwich over with minimal spillage to reveal a rich dark underside. “Genji explained that soup is not appropriate for the summer heat, but that you would appreciate this on its own?”

“You made me grilled cheese,” she stresses. “And did laundry. And  _ cleaned.” _

Zenyatta gives that light laugh of his and tilts his head down against hers in a tender gesture. “This is the least we can do for all you have done for us, and others.”

Affection swells over her frazzled nerves, too weary from a twenty-four hour shift to control the rising emotions. Tears are just beginning to threaten when Genji’s arms wrap around her from behind and guide her back to their modest dining table set for one. “None of that. Come sit; dinner will be finished soon, and you look ready to collapse.”

Her legs have ached for so long that the pain had receded to the back of her mind, but the moment she falls into the chair her feet positively throb with it. Without prompting, Genji tugs at the laces of her shoes before slipping them from her feet. Then those strong hands take her right foot in hand and  _ squeeze _ . It shocks an absolutely indecent moan out of her throat. “Oh, you can do that forever,” she groans, head falling back to thump against the wall.

Genji grins up at her. “Food first. Besides, someone has to pour the wine.”

Angela does whine when he stands but accepts the glass all the same. The white wine is nothing fancy but right now tastes like a vintage delicacy. “I haven’t sat down in ten hours. A foot rub is my highest priority.” Just as she says so, a plate is set before her stacked with sandwiches, the cheese oozing from the sides in ooey-gooey perfection. Her stomach practically snarls in anticipation. “I changed my mind. This is the highest priority.” The first bite is nothing short of heavenly, and she lets out another breathy moan of bliss. If she weren’t so consumed by the simple joys of hot cheese and crunchy carbs, she would notice Genji’s blush at her blatant pleasure or her two lovers sharing a pointed look.

“You will have to forgive us for not baking an appropriate dessert, but that is a skill both Genji and I still lack,” Zenyatta apologizes, carding his fingers lovingly through Angela’s hair just once before retreating to clean up his mess. “Miss Zhou was kind enough to acquire a small cake for you in town. Caramel and vanilla, I believe.”

“We struggled not to eat it without you. You know Zennie and his sweet tooth,” Genji adds, teasing. “Can I get you anything?”

Angela has to chew several times and swallow before answering. “This is perfect, thank you! Are you sure I haven’t missed a holiday? Anniversary? This is too much.”

“There’s still more to come.” Genji shoots her a wink as he backs out of the room. “Eat all of that, we know you missed dinner!”

Zenyatta glances back at her, somehow feeling her accusatory stare in his sensors like a human might, and he shrugs. “We both worry, and our colleagues are happy to...what is the term? ‘Rat you out?’”

“Lúcio or Brigitte?”

“Neither, and I will not reveal my sources.”

Under normal circumstances Angela would put up a fuss over all this attention; after all, she is no stranger to long hours or the fatigue of working the Overwatch infirmary. And her lovers are sweet and caring but they have their own busy lives. Tonight, however, she is just the right side of too tired to question it. She barely gives a passing through to what Genji might be up to in the other room, her mind dulled to everything but the delicious food in front of her and watching Zenyatta’s shoulders move as he cleans dishes. The deep sigh she lets out draws his attention. “Everything alright?”

Angela props her cheek against her hand and picks up her wine glass, sending him a lazy smile. “Just admiring the view.”

Zenyatta has no blood vessels for blushing, but the angle of his posture always straightens just the slightest bit when something catches him off-guard. Things like compliments to his appearance. Angela and Genji like to make a game of it, to see who can make him react the most. Her grin widens when his back goes straight and his hands pause their movements. “Ah. I...well, thank you. Let me get you a slice of cake.”

She takes another sip of wine as he disappears behind the refrigerator door. If she had the energy, she would follow, slipping her arms around his slim waist and enticing him to bed with promises of a different kind of dessert. Oh, but if she were not so tired.

The cake is sublime, as expected, satisfying her sugar craving that only surfaces on nights like this. Angela forces herself to eat it slowly, to enjoy the creaminess, to savor every morself until not a speck of caramel remains on the plate. Zenyatta sits with her and fills the quiet with talk of their day. Nothing exciting, nothing dangerous. Just the monotonous acts of chores and housework that they so rarely have the chance to keep up with, that usually falls to one of them doing hastily in the few hours between missions, work that they all dread to do but breathe a sigh of relief when its complete. The soothing cadence of his voice lulls her further towards sleep, and she is just about to suggest they head to bed when Genji reappears in the hall. “All ready in here.”

“Excellent.” Zenyatta whisks the empty plate away before Angela can register he has stood. “We were just finished.”

“There’s more?” Angela asks as Genji takes her by both hands and helps her stand. The shift of her weight onto her feet makes her gasp in pain, and no sooner has the sound left her throat than Genji has her lifted in his arms. “Genji!” she squeaks, momentarily dizzy and clinging around his shoulders. “I can walk myself, you know!”

“You can, but not tonight.” The journey to the ensuite bathroom is through the bedroom, just long enough for Angela to catch the sight of a made bed over her shoulder before she is deposited on their clean countertop. Genji looks her up and down with a slight head tilt. “Why are you still dressed? I thought you’d be stripped down the moment you hit the door.”

“I thought I’d fallen through another dimension,” Angela replies, distracted, because there are lit candles on the shelves and window sill, and a tub full of piping-hot water waiting just for her. She juts out her bottom lip and turns those big blue eyes on Genji. “You ran a  _ bath…Genji... _ ”

He laughs, nimble fingers already slipping beneath her scrubs and lifting until her arms follow suit. “If I had known you were this tired, we would have come and stolen you away from work hours ago.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” she says, sighing as her bra is unhooked and a day’s worth of pressure is released. “But I appreciate the thought.”  Her breath catches as Genji leans in to press soft kisses along the slope of her shoulder and neck just as his hands cup her breasts, massaging the undersides where the elastic dug into her pale skin. The touch is more for comfort than arousal but it does both all the same. Angela finds herself arching up to meet his lips. Her nipples harden against his palms, then against his fingers as he tweaks and tugs them, mouth drifting down to the curve of her breast, breath hot and damp–

“Genji.”

The movements stop, and Genji raises his head at Zenyatta’s warning. Angela lets out a whine that goes ignored by both. “Sorry, got distracted.”

“She is quite distracting,” Zenyatta agrees. He watches as Genji draws her into a slow kiss, one that burns with promise. “But bath first.”

Genji eases back, Angela’s teeth dragging over his lower lip, and he has to take a deep breath himself. “Right. Bath.”

As Genji helps to strip Angela of the rest of her clothing, Zenyatta moves in close to pull her hair up into a loose bun. “There will be time for that.”

“I might fall asleep,” Angela counters, allowing them their indulgences and not protesting as Genji lifts her once again. She groans as he settles her in the steamy, fragrant water, her muscles practically screaming in relief. Lavender and eucalyptus fill her senses, and when she drags her fingers along the water’s surface a gold shimmer is left in their wake. Tomorrow she’ll glow like a beacon under the infirmary lights, but that is a problem for future Angela. For now, her head settles back against the folded towel they placed under her neck. “If I drown I will be quite cross with both of you,” she murmurs, eyes already drifting closed.

“Athena would never let you drown,” Genji states. “We will let you have some time to yourself. Ah, one more thing.”

She hears him fiddling with something, then the click of the radio. Deep, soulful notes of a saxophone pour out of the speakers and into the air, and her eyes pop open to shoot them both incredulous looks. “Kenny G?”

“He is your favorite.”

Her eyes narrow to look at Zenyatta. “You hate Kenny G.”

Zenyatta puts a hand over his sternum where a human heart would be. “We do extraordinary things for love.” Genji snorts at that.

Appeased, Angela settles back and closes her eyes with a sigh as they take their leave. “Love you, too.”

The bath is divine. Heat seeps through her sore muscles down to her very bones, the water doing its part to alleviate the pain in her joints. She pays mind to submerge her overworked hands. Consciously relaxing, she lets the water support them as they drift, fingers and palms and wrists unclenched, buoyant, weightless. She stretches every muscle out down to her toes, raising her legs up out of the water just so she can feel them submerge once again. And all the while her favorite guilty pleasure music plays over the radio, for once without a single complaint.

By the time Angela emerges from the tub her fingers and toes have gone pruny. Despite being warmed through she still feels stiff, rising unsteadily to her feet. She towels off and pulls on her floral silk bathrobe, a gift from Genji from his last mission that took him through Japan. Her skin feels extra sensitive after the bath giving the fabric an ethereal quality, and she cannot resist swishing it against her thighs. The sash, however, seems to be missing. A half-hearted search later and she decides to do without, padding out to their bedroom with her robe loose and open.

Genji and Zenyatta are both dressed down on their large bed, the covers turned down and the lights low. Genji’s scarred lips are dark and swollen, inviting. “There you are,” he murmurs, patting the bed between them. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” she replies, accepting Zenyatta’s hand when offered. He leads her down onto the bed and they both move in closer. “Were you two in here having fun without me?”

“Just warming up,” Genji assures with a smirk. He allows her to lean in and nuzzle the sensors along Zenyatta’s neck, watching with a predatory gaze as she shifts the wires and licks a line along the rim of his chestplate, each movement making the lights on Zenyatta’s face flicker with interest. “Now it is your turn to get ahead of yourself,” Genji chastises.

“Soon,” Zenyatta promises. His large hands tug on the silk robe before slipping it from her shoulders to pool at her elbows. “As lovely as you are, this will be in the way.”

“What else is there?” Angela asks as the robe gets flung off the bed. She does a double-take as Genji reaches for a ridiculously large bottle of massage oil on the bedside table. “Where on Earth did you get that?”

Genji pops the top and gives it a sniff. “Less questions, more laying down. On your stomach, please.”

Angela rolls her eyes but is hopelessly amused. Her boys have gone above and beyond this time. Complying with his request, she stretches out on the bed between them and settles with her arms by her hips, head turned to the side with eyes closed. Anyone else and she would be nervous. But not here. Not with Zenyatta and Genji to take care of her.

Four hands touch her at once, metal slick with oil warmed by their internal systems and her body heat. With her eyes closed, she can’t tell whose hands are whose. They run over her arms and legs, hips and back. Deft fingers find the sensitive muscle at the nape of her neck, the beginnings of a pinched nerve from long hours bent with scalpel and suture, and dig in sending electricity down her spine. Another thumb rotates against her lumbar right where it cramps after pushing a gurney through the halls. The pressure makes gasp. They search and soothe every knot and ache until she is nothing more than a puddle that used to be Angela Ziegler.

“Are you still awake?” Zenyatta asks, giving her back a long sweep down her spine, over the curve of her ass, and beyond to the backs of her knees. She manages nothing more than a weak hum, and her boyfriends laugh. “Time to turn over, then.”

A shiver dances down her frame when she settles on her back, both from the cool air on her front and from the gazes of her lovers. She feels vulnerable but safe, so safe with these two, that she closes her eyes and leans into that vulnerability.

Her front receives the same thorough attention as her back, but this time she cannot hide her reactions in the downy blanket. Nor can she halt her growing arousal as their hands, free to roam, seek out the places that make her moan. Zenyatta’s hands are big enough to cover the entirety of her beasts, the long metal of his fingers slipping against the stiff peaks of her nipples. She arches up as he squeezes, pinches, and pulls, until her breasts are aching with sensation.

Meanwhile Genji massages up from her feet, all the way up to her thighs and hips. Thumbs dig into the delicate skin and sensitive muscles of her inner thighs and put enough pressure there to ease her legs up and apart until he settles them in a wide spread. She shivers at the cold air over her exposed folds, wet with need. Oil is drizzled over her here, too, but it is hardly needed. Genji’s thumbs sweep inward, over and over, moving diligently toward her center, each pass making her hips rise and lips open for more. The first pass of his thumb over her swollen clitoris has her shaking.

No words are spoken as they shift, Zenyatta to her side and Genji down onto his front between her legs. His thumbs continue their work but his mouth comes in to play, hot breath ghosting over her before soft lips and a clever tongue slip against her. Angela is aware that her mouth fell open at some point, deep pants making her glistening chest rise and fall for much needed air. One of Zenyatta’s hands settles low on her abdomen right above her golden curls. So distracted by Genji’s ministrations, she doesn’t know where his other hand is until she feels two thick metal fingers sliding inside. They make a come-hither motion against her walls, and with Zenyatta’s hands on either side they press right against the spot inside that makes her see stars. Genji’s tongue starts to move faster, always keeping rhythm with his thumbs, the sound wet and obscene with her heaving breaths.

Angela knows what’s coming next, her body already tensing in anticipation, but there is no way to prepare for the click and hum of Zenyatta’s fingers beginning to vibrate. A scream rips out of her and her muscles seize, the pleasure overwhelming as everything goes white. Pulse after pulse, it seems to go on and on, her core straining against Genji’s tongue until the pleasure finally bleeds into overstimulation. Zenyatta stops vibrating, and they ease away from her most sensitive parts, massaging her hips and thighs as she comes down.

“I think she liked it,” Genji teases, kissing her thigh.

A single noise comes out of her throat, barely a hum of acknowledgement. In the wake of an orgasm like that, sleep is coming on fast. Normally she would at least attempt to reciprocate but there is nothing in her body left to give. Zenyatta laughs and lays down next to her. “We promise to pamper you more often. For now, sleep.”

Genji lays down on her other side and kisses her forehead. “Goodnight, love. Round two in the morning.”

Angela is asleep before she can think to reply.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like that and want more, want to check out my art, or just want to chat, come on by my tumblr! You can find me under username wyntera. And if twitter is more your game, come and join me there, just look for @ThreeCatDesigns. You can now also find me as wyntera on Pillowfort!
> 
> And hey. Thanks.


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